Resigning In The End
by Takei Hisa
Summary: A Kuroko No Basuke Angsty One-Shot Closely follows the chapters 221 and 220! Mainly revolves around how the members of GOM is changing.


The moon hung, glazed in the night sky, blurred. There was no distinct brightness that night, just a pale, sickly looking circular blob of faint, patched colour. Clouds rolled by every now and then, obstructing it, preventing even its palest flicker of glow to peep through. Strained was what the atmosphere was. The echoes of two pairs of footsteps could be heard, one belonging to a pink-haired female, and another belonging to that of the lightly-coloured blue haired male strolling alongside her. The match that had taken place that afternoon replayed itself viciously in their minds, like a movie they couldn't stop. Not like they had pressed the play button by choice in the first place.

_The cries of amazement at the unexpected growth of Murasakibara as he forcefully dunked the ball into the basket were loud.  
"What an amazing dunk!"  
"Who is he, Shaq?"  
"There's just no way you could stop that!—"  
His words repeatedly haunted the minds of the two.  
"If I start playing for real, I feel like I'll even crush my allies."  
"I don't want to listen to someone who is weaker than me, Aka-chin." _

The thought of Murasakibara becoming just like—how _he_ became frightened them. When his violet eyes lost the vigour of joy—the ecstasy of playing. It was the same. It was _him_. 'All over again.' thought Kuroko. Satsuki had not missed anything either. The sudden growth of Murasakibara—she knew—was exactly why he was almost a different person. 'Daiki…' the faint memory of Aomine brushing Kuroko's offered ritualistic fist-bump surfaced in her mind. She didn't want to witness such a scene. She also recalled Midorima standing from the half court line during his night practice, experimenting with shooting from such a distance for the first time. She didn't miss the electrifying knowing shock that briefly flashed across his eyes when the ball fell through with a 'swish.' She knew this would be the start of Midorima's domino effects; just like how it had gradually taken its demonic shape with the other Kiseki no Sedai members. Satsuki bit her lip, until it drew blood. Whatever happened to what she once believed was a team?

"Murasakibara-kun was really amazing today. Thanks to him, I didn't get a chance to play at all."  
His tone was cold, frigid. Satsuki couldn't tell, at that point in time, whether he was mocking himself.  
"Yeah…I guess so."  
She decided to answer passively, shutting one eye to underlying meanings behind that statement.  
"But…at the same time, it frightened me."  
Satsuki turned to glance at Kuroko, only to see a pained expression overshadowed by his locks.

To say Kuroko was frightened was too careless an understatement.  
Kuroko was petrified, sick to the stomach. He felt cracked, like a glassy porcelain vase with cracks running through the surface, only lengthening and deepening with the passing of time. It would soon shatter of course. He knew it all too well. One day, the fragility of the seams holding all this together will dissipate, melt into nothingness, and everything he once treasured and loved would be snatched away from him violently, leaving him empty-handed, back to the way he once was; Without much of a goal or an aim. What had he done to deserve this treatment? Such subtle, temporary happiness, it all seemed like it just happened yesterday. And in that quick instant it was all jerked back into reality. Why?

"I really want to do something…" he trailed off.  
"But in my current state, I don't know if I can." He confided.

Well, because he's been cracked. It was just like crumpling up a piece of paper. You can iron it out, and you can straighten it out again, but you know it will never be the same fresh clean sheet of paper you once had. He's upset, and he's broken. He wants to mend it all—get things back to the way they started, and not like how it was now. How everything is so fucking messed up, all hanging by broken threads, threatening to split at any given time now. He'd give anything to be playing on the same court as the Kiseki No Sedai again, with beaming, proud faces and their perspiration glinting in the bright lights of the indoor court, a significant sign of their hard work. But no, everything is screwed up now, and there was nothing he could do about it.

Satsuki stopped in her tracks, and her lips quivered. She doesn't really know what to say, but it all hits her—what she had been holding back since the first time Aomine lashed out at some kid for being unable to stop him from scoring multiple worthless shots. _"I'm not taking this anymore!" _were his very words as he left the very last practice he ever attended. She reaches out to Kuroko, her hands trembling. She can't bear to look at him, in fear that one day he might just become like one of them. What if that day came? Then she would be all alone, with no one to lean on. So she made one of the weirdest promises she believed she had ever made: To be together always. She knew that it was impossible to revert to how they ever started. However, she still wanted to delude herself, because she still wanted to harbour some form of hope—a belief that deep down, they were still the same members who were passionate about basketball.

"Momoi-san…?" Kuroko turned around; a hint of confusion clouded his expression.  
"We'll always be together…right?" her voice shook. Crap.  
"Everyone loves basketball! And even after all this…we'll still be able to have fun together right?!"  
She was desperate. Her hand grasped his sleeve, till it crumpled. She wasn't sure if she was on the brink of tears, but she knew she was desperate. Desperately hoping that the last bonds would not tear. Desperately hoping that everyone would still stay together. Desperately hoping that things will go back to the way they once were, when a happy ending had been in store for them. She just wanted reassurance, a firm voice to comfort her, and tell her that everything would be all right. That was all she wanted.

Tetsuya simply gives his small smile, the rare one he usually showed only to Aomine. He hadn't smiled in a long time, and the muscles suddenly clenching up felt so unfamiliar to him before he realized that he had been smiling. He knew Satsuki still held that glimmer of hope with her, the hope that was identical to his. No matter how faint or weak her hope was, it was warming to know that at least someone still shared similar beliefs as him. It was a reassuring smile, since he knew. He knew things would never turn back, but if he could, he would gladly sacrifice the championship trophy just so he could play basketball with them. The sunlight beating down on them as they swiftly make passes, before scoring goal after goal, for the passionate fun of it, and shooting each other with lame jokes after the game, if only such a thing were possible, Kuroko would have given all the medals back. He knew. This would be the end of it all.  
The late night bus approached. A single sheet of paper flew out of Kuroko's bag.  
Satsuki picked them up

"What's this?"  
Kuroko retrieves them from her before she gets an opportunity to read what was on the paper.  
"Nothing much, just the homework due tomorrow."  
He signed his name at the bottom hastily before stuffing it into his bag.

Kuroko never showed up for basketball practice for the days after.


End file.
